Dark Magic
by Shamelessly Radiant
Summary: TRHG, ONE-SHOT:' "Would you like to learn it, then?" he asks, his dark eyes appraising her.' Professor Riddle makes Hermione Granger an offer she cannot refuse. And just like that, her life is about to change-irrevocably. part of LJ prompt series. Tomione.


_**A/N:**_ **Back from never gone! Just super, super busy with life in general. Funny because I really don't do** _ **that**_ **much. Anyways, this one-shot has been laying around for months, so I'm going to share it.**

 **This was written for the prompt: magic.**

 **As always, if you enjoy please review!**

 _ **.**_

Hogwarts was supposed to be her _new beginning._

Her chance to start all over again.

It turns out, you cannot outrun yourself.

And so-

Hermione is utterly alone.

No one likes her- just like they didn't when she still was in the Muggle world- and they only talk to her when they needs help with their homework.

They roll their eyes when she raises her hand in class, and she knows they talk about her behind her back.

By day, she seeks companionship in her books, tries to escape her loneliness by reading everything she can get her hands on.

At night the only proof of it is the dampness on her pillow and the tear tracks on her cheeks.

 _ **.**_

"Filthy, little Mudblood," the pale, blonde boy snarls at her.

Reflexively she clutches her book tighter to her chest, because while she does not know the word, she understands the tone, the expression, and knows it cannot be anything good.

Really, her first year was filled with Gryffindors who hated her, and now in her second year she is going to get remarks from _other_ houses too?

"Get out of my wa-" he starts speaking again, but is interrupted by a much heavier voice.

"Mister Malfoy! Twenty points from Slytherin, for rudeness and the use of such vocabulary."

Malfoy's eyes widen, and he whirls around. There is a young man standing there, and Hermione frowns, not recognising him from anywhere.

"Professor!"

"Don't make me take another twenty, Malfoy," the man threatens, "Run along now."

The boy leaves with a stormy expression. Hermione swallows the bile in her throat away, and looks up at the teacher now running a hand through his dark hair as he tracks Malfoy with his eyes until blonde hair disappears around the corner.

He then turns to her, and Hermione looks away, startled.

Frowning, he asks: "Are you all right, Miss..?"

"Granger, sir," she responds softly, "Hermione Granger. And yes, I'm fine."

She smiles stupidly, closes her eyes, opens them again, gives a firm nod as if to convince herself, feels like laughing, hopes he will go away soon so she can just _sag_ against the wall and _cry-_

A gentle hands lands on her shoulder.

"Come, miss Granger," he says, "my office is just around the corner, let me offer you a cup of tea."

Hermione hesitates, nods shakily, hoists her bag higher on her shoulder, and lets herself be led away.

"I have not yet had the pleasure of teaching Gryffindors," he explains, as he opens a door for her, "so that's why I did not know you. I think I have you on... Thursday? Maybe Friday."

"So you're the new defence professor?" she asks, as she takes in his office. It is very neat, very organised. Light comes in from the big window across the door, illuminating a big mahogany desk, upon which lies a big stack of parchment, two books and a black quill dipped into dark blue ink. There is a filing cabinet against the right wall, Hermione registers with mild surprise, a concept she thought to be entirely Muggle. Her parents have one like that in their dentistry practice. Next to it is a little table with cups and everything but what most gets her attention is the left wall.

It's filled with shelves and books, books, books-

"Indeed. I am professor Riddle," he says, from behind her, and she registers she is still standing in the door opening.

"Sorry," she blushes, stepping inside, and then "May I?" gesturing at the books.

"Be my guest," he nods and moves to the table on the left wall to fix the tea. She puts down her bag next to the chair in front of his office and the book she is holding on it and then she rushes to the left wall.

Holding her hands behind her back to prevent herself from just _reading_ everything, she starts tracking the titles. It is refreshing, really. He has novels, Wizard _and_ Muggle, one of them Shakespeare, practical applications, Transfiguration, Charms and Potions. Care for magical Creatures, Astronomy and Runes. But also Muggle math and science, and even a book or two that combine them. He has history of the both worlds, books in French, German, and is that _mermish?_ He has book on more obscure subjects, she notes, such as.. as mindreading and darker potions, but nothing too dark and-

She wants them all.

"How do you like your tea?" he asks, and she half turns, not looking at him, anxious to drink in as many titles as she can. Before she is able to answer, he speaks again.

"You _are_ a first year, are you not?"

She turns completely: "Second, actually, why?"

"Ah, secondyear, still, this is quite advanced magic, Miss Granger" he states, holding up the thick tome Hermione had checked out from the library earlier, "and you are reading the _second_ volume already." He adds drily, arching one eyebrow in an odd demonstration of facial control.

Hermione shrugs, fiddling with her hands. At last she answers: "It's not like I have much to do anyway"

He regards her for a moment. Then "Come sit, the tea is getting cold", but as she crosses the office to his desk he moves around it to pull a book from the third shelve on the left. She identifies it as the first volume of the book she is reading. The golden title reads _'The Fine Arts of Magic: Advanced Transfiguration, I'._

Walking back to his desk, he leafs through it. She drinks her tea, and observes him, curious. Eventually he sits down too, added a sugar cube to his tea, takes a sip and then peers at the girl sitting in front of him.

"You read this whole book?"

She nods

"And you understood everything?"

She frowns, "Well, there were a couple of concepts that I found quite vague in the last three chapters, and other books were not helpful either"

"Well since the books handle conjuration and untransfiguration.. which are N.E.W.T level subjects! I find it highly impressive that you managed to understand even the first chapter"

"Yes, well, I've only been reading the theory, not the practical aspects"

He chuckles at her petulant tone. There is a lapse of silence then, he seems immersed in thought, and she just sips her tea. Somehow, the silence is not unpleasant, in Hermione's opinion.

They speak at the same time:

"Thank you fo-"

"Would you li-"

"I'm sorry what was that, professor?" Hermione asks after a beat.

"Would you like to learn it, then?" he asks, his dark eyes appraising her.

"Yes of course! But professor McGonagall said that I should not be concerning me with something _that difficult_ before learning the basics, even though I already managed all the spells in _'A Guide To Transfiguration'._ "

"Well.. maybe _I_ could teach you" he suggests, finishing his tea.

"But I thought you taught Defence against the dark arts, professor?"she asks, confused.

"I assure you, Miss Granger," he smiles at her, "I am fully qualified in all the other subjects as well.. though, perhaps not potions," he adds thoughtfully, stroking his chin with his thumb; it suddenly hits Hermione how _dazzlingly handsome_ he is "While I certainly have an appreciation for the subtle science of potions making, and can appreciate the beauty of a shimmering cauldron, I.. ah, find myself more pulled to areas of magic that hold.. foolish wand-waving and such"

Hermione giggles, recognising Snape's speech in his words. Then she turns serious, mulling his words over.

"I'd love to, professor.. but I don't know if I posses the ability to do it, yet" she admits hesitantly.

He nods understandingly.

"Yes, well, we would start with something far easier than this, of course. But.. " he narrowed his eyes somewhat in thought. Hermione blinked two times to stop herself from drooling, "your first defence class is rather practical.. maybe I can, let's say, see you _in action_ first, and then we decide?"

She nods happily.

Professor Riddle stands then, retrieving both cups. "Almost dinner time" he speaks, and Hermione understands that she has been dismissed.

"Thank you for the tea, sir" she says as she retrieves her stuff and walks to the door. Before she can open it, his voice stops her.

"What about your.. 'light reading", Miss Granger?"

"Oh, my book! Yes, thank you!" she grins.

Handing it to her, he opens the door. "We'll see each other.. Friday, then" he utters and she nods, looking up at him, taking him in fully. Dark hair, pale skin, dark blue eyes, straight nose, long lashes-

Blushing she leaves quickly, book in one hand and bag in other.

Behind her, Riddle closes the door slowly, a thoughtful, calculating expression etched upon his lovely face.

 _ **.**_

"All right class, settle down."

The words are not loud, but the effect is instantaneous. Some people just.. _have that_. That ability to claim the attention of a whole room just by _entering,_ or basically _being_ themselves.

Hermione watches him expectantly, really curious about how he will teach them. Her hands are in her lap, and she is sitting on the second row, alone.

Behind her Lavender and Parvati are whispering and giggling madly, looking at the professor every two second. She catches Lavender gushing about how handsome he is and feels a strange stabbing in her stomach. Jealousy maybe, or whatever, because Lavender is so much prettier than Hermione is, and-

 _Stop it, Hermione_ she scolds herself, _he is your teacher._

Professor Riddle writes _'Tom Riddle'_ in a very elegant script on the board, and then turns to face them.

"But to you I am Professor Riddle, of course. Now, giggling girl on the third row, yes, you" he adds when Lavender looks up, surprised, "Miss-?"

She scrapes her throat, "Brown, sir."

Professor Riddle looks at his list "Lavender Brown?"

"Yes"

"Can you tell me the three most basic defence spells there are?"

Lavender flushes and shakes her head.

"Oh, my bad, I thought you were discussing them with your friend already," he says sardonically.

Hermione looks down and hopes her hair hides her smile. When she looks up again, Riddle is staring directly at her, with an amused expression.

"Can you, Miss Granger?"

"Uhm, I think- _expelliarmus_ and _protego_ are basic and important, and then also _stupefy_ maybe?"

"It was a trick question," he acknowledges, "there are only two. Stupefy would be considered more of an offensive one, though it is not a bad example as third one. Five points to Gryffindor."

She smiles, and Professor Riddle faces the class:

"Forget just coming here to write down things and giggle with your friends. You cannot learn to defend yourself by just _listening_ to me. You have to get up and _do_ it. I don't care what you learned last year, this year we are starting over again. When you take your O.W.L's I expect you to be able to hold a basic duel, with defensive _and_ offensive spells, I expect you to be able to know exactly what to do when faced with certain creatures, and I expect you to know some more creative spells. Don't think DADA is a 'stand alone'course. I also will be expecting you to be able to know the right potions to use in certain cases, how to work charms and transfiguration, and I want you to know magical objects and their history, and also the history of wars, and the evolution of spells."

The whole class groans, but Professor Riddle isn't finished.

In a softer tone he continues: "When you pass your O.W.L's, _if_ you pass your O.W.L's I will be teaching you much more advanced spells, spells that combine those fields of magic you seem to want to keep apart that badly. I will teach you the patronus charm, and will work with you on conjuration of weapons and untransfiguration. I will teach you how to heal wounds and save lives, I will give a basic, or more advanced protective rune course and teach you to enhance your protection with them. I can teach you how to become invisible _,_ how to sneak by your enemy unheard, unseen. For those of you more interested in the offensive spells, I can teach you spells that are nor dark nor light, spells that can maim and make bleed, I can teach you how to kill someone if necessary.. I could even teach you the unforgivables.. "

He seems to caress the words, and everyone, including Hermione is mesmerised. With a staggering clarity she realizes that he _could_ kill them all if he wanted to, faster than they could say 'help' but she also sees how much he could teach them, teach _her_ if-

"Of course, I will not do such things," he laughs, and the tense, uneasy atmosphere in the classroom is broken as some people laugh too, a bit nervously. Hermione does not laugh. She keeps on watching transfixed, as he fingers his wand.

He meets her eyes and he keeps holding them as he continues: "But what I _will_ do is lead you to your full potential, and keep pushing you until you reach it. I will _not_ let you give up, and every spell I ask you to perform you _will_ perform. I expect you to do better than your best, and face it," here he raised his eyebrows, "you are stuck with me until O.W.L's. Then you _or I_ can decide to go on or stop right there. Now Lavender Brown? Present," he nods to himself, "Seamus Finnigan?"

He proceeds with the student list.

They practice disarming and shield spells that day, and by the end of the lesson Hermione has managed them both, though her shield only works two out of three times. Lavender seems to take vicious joy in disarming Hermione, but she fails more than she succeeds. Harry Potter disarms Ron Weasley at third try, and as first in the class, and Hermione is the first with a shield, which earns them both another five points.

At the end of the lesson, Hermione is exhausted and when Professor Riddle announces that there is no homework she is actually grateful. Somehow, she doubts getting good marks is easy in this class.

"Miss Granger?" he asks, when she is about to leave the room, "do you have a moment?"

She curses herself for always leaving first, and mutters a yes without meeting anyone's eye because if she does she is sure Lavender's look will scorch her, and Ron's and Parvati's won't be too kind either.

The others leave considerably slower than normal, but Riddle does not look up until everyone has left. Then, with a wave of his wand he closes the door and becomes her closer.

"Yes, sir?"

"If you are still interested, I am willing to teach you," he says, and they both know it is not a question. Still Hermione nods, and he smiles briefly.

"I understand that you are particularly interested in Transfigurations?"

"Yes, I find it very interesting."

"I will be busy preparing new classes for a while, since this is my first year as professor, so I thought I'd give you.. this" he reaches behind him and hands her _'Intermediate Transfiguration_ '. I'd like you to study this, it is O.W.L level, so something you would only see in third, fourth year, and it covers some less basic transformations and vanishment. When you finish it, you come to me. And you can take your time, so I suggest you understand the basic concepts at least"

"All right, sir."

"Good," he says, "Now go enjoy your weekend."

She curses herself all the way to Gryffindor tower, because she is unable to get his smile out of her mind.

 _ **.**_

Lavender accost her with a nasty smirk on her face, and keeps nagging her about being a teacher's pet for two hours straight. It is only when Hermione is laying in her bed she realizes the girl is just jealous of Hermione being singled out by Professor Riddle.

 _She should know_ , Hermione thinks and almost laughs at the irony.

 _ **.**_

"Miss Granger," he says surprised, "what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be upstairs, celebrating with your peers?"

She startles, and blushes as she looks up from her book. "I don't really get along with the other Gryffindors," she mumbles, praying he will not force her to join them.

"Understandable," he drawls after a beat, the corner of his mouth rising to show his amusement.

Nodding, she looks down, waiting for the "but.."- but it never comes. Instead soft footsteps approach the far right table she is sitting at, and to her great surprise professor Riddle sits across from her.

Immediately, a house elf rushes over. "Can Lippy get Master Riddle anything, sir?"

"I think I'll have whatever miss Granger is eating, Lippy. It looks delicious. Also, some pumpkin juice and a pumpkin-apple pastry."

"Yes, master" the elf nods five times and leaves, still nodding.

Riddle focuses his attention back on her.

"What are you reading, Miss Granger?"

"Oh," Hermione swallows her mouthful of Shepherds' pie quickly and holds up _'Hogwarts, A History'._

"Ah, a fine choice," he states, ".. though if I remember well, it is lacking in some aspects. I don't believe the kitchens being described in it, nor its occupants."

"I followed some older students," Hermione explains, then adds disgustedly, "they were mistreating the elves so badly I wanted to torture them."

Something flashes in Riddle's eyes, and she adds quickly "In a manner of speaking, of course."

"Hmm," he makes, non-committedly, "Yes, not all wizards show proper respect to other creatures."

Hermione nods, but decides to hold back on the rant she has in mind. Somehow, with professor Riddle, she always feels.. _careful_ , mindful. It is a difficult feeling to explain, and she feels great admiration for the man, even though she only has known him two months. A sixth sense tells her there is much more to him than he lets on, that there is something.. _hidden_ beneath the surface. That it is the reason he commands such respect.

Foolishly, she wishes people would feel that about her too.

But, _noooo_ she only gets called _'annoying know-it-all'_ by Ron Weasley, _after_ she had helped him with the charms essay.

She had cried in the bathroom for what felt like three hours and then decided he wasn't worth it. _That no one of them was worth it._ So she had pushed back her shoulders, tilted up her chin and-

Hidden in the kitchen instead of joining the Halloween feast.

So much for Gryffindor's bravery and nerve _._

Lippy reappears with a steaming plate, a pumpkin juice can and a basket filled with pastries. Hermione stares at the plate longingly, hers long cold by now.

"Would miss be wanting something else?" the elf asks. She shakes her head, smiling.

"Warming charms are only taught in fourth year if I recall correctly," Professor Riddle comments suddenly. Hermione makes a childish face at herself for being so transparent.

He chuckles, and with a snap of his finger the plate visibly starts steaming again. Her eyes grow wide.

"you can do _wandless_ magic?" she blurts out.

"A most useful skill."

"But only very, _very_ powerful wizards can do that! I mean, not that I doubt you being powerful but- I- well-"

She takes a bit to stop herself from making. It. Even. Worse and promptly burns her tongue. Grabbing her pumpkin juice to soothe her poor tongue- _thank God she didn't bump the glass and spill the juice-_ she decides that they are both better off if she continues reading her book.

Professor Riddle, however, interrupts her hands journey, his eyes tracking her face.

"It is a very selective book," he remarks, gesturing at it, (she removes her hand like it has been burned as badly as her tongue), "all the.. _uglier_ facets of Hogwarts have been carefully removed. For example,.. Have you ever heard of the.. legend of the _Chamber Of Secrets_?

"Chamber of Secrets?"

"You know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded a long, long time ago by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age. The four houses are named after them: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff; Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin.

For a few years, the founders worked in harmony together, admitting all young people who showed signs of magical ability. But then disagreements sprang up between them. A rift began to grow between Slytherin and the others. Slytherin wished to be more selective about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed that magic learning should be kept within all-magic families. He disliked taking students of Muggle parentage, believing them to be untrustworthy. After a while, there was a serious argument on the subject between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Slytherin left the school. Now the story goes that, _before_ Slytherin left Hogwarts, he built a hidden chamber in the castle, disguised from the other founders and students.

According to the legend, he sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that none would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived at the school. The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets, unleash the horror within, and use it to purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic."

"Mudbloods" Hermione whispers, softly, then snorts, "I already have noticed the Slytherin's dislike for people such as me, _obviously_.. Is it true, then?"

"Well, some people claim that it is only a legend. But.. fifty years ago, a girl died, here in this school. There were very strong facts pointing towards the heir of Slytherin, but the attacks stopped after that, and the culprit nor the monster were ever found. It could be a coincidence of course, just a terrible accident. It _could_ be just a legend but-"

"Every legend always have a basis in fact," she murmurs. A girl _died?_ A Muggleborn? Just because of blood?

"Indeed," he nods, and with her horrified face he adds "but you should know Miss Granger.. not all Slytherins are like that."

At her incredulous glance he continues: "I was a Slytherin myself, and yet I have always held an appreciation for.. power and intelligence, regardless of blood status"

Hermione snorts, "yes well, I am not terribly powerful nor intelligent. I just have a good memory."

She shrugs her shoulders bitterly and carefully starts eating again. Riddle, too, takes another bite before he seemingly changes the subject all together.

"Have you finished the book I gave you?"

"I have two chapters two go," she answers, "I think I'll have it finished tonight."

"See me next Tuesday, then, and we'll see if your self-deprecation has a rightful base to stand on."

She cringes at his reproaching tone, and looks away, not quite knowing how to react. Her left hand inches towards her book again- but then he speaks up, again.

"Now tell me, what did you learn today?" he asks, his long fingers tearing a piece of his pastry gracefully, the golden crumbs falling neatly on the empty spot in his plate.

She frowns. He _knows_ this already, right? It is just boring second year stuff, anyway.

"If I ask you something, it is not because I feel the need for idle chatter. I genuinely want an answer, so you don't have to worry about boring me with one- unless of course, it _really_ is boring, but my self-preservation skills will kick in before you can bore me to death, no need to worry."

She breathes out a laugh and starts talking "Well in charms we learned _wingardium leviosa._ Professor Flitwick told us how a single mispronunciation could change the whole spell, quite interesting actually...," and she launches into a detailed explanation of her progress in the other courses.

He gives her an approving look, listens carefully, shows the right amount of interest and asks questions at the right moments and her book is forgotten for the rest of the meal, and for a good part of the evening too.

 _ **.**_

"Again."

"But it was done perfectly" Hermione exclaims, "look!"

Grabbing a needle, she approaches the needle cushion-

Only to have it flinch away from her.

Professor Riddle chuckles, "it is a difficult one. Most students only get this in their fourth year, so you are already doing quite well. Now, again."

He waves his wand, and the hedgehog reappeared. Sighing, Hermione raises her wand-

"No, no, your stance is wrong to begin with" he interrupts her, "most people find it silly to watch something like their stance, but it has been proven to affect spell casting quite severely. It is best if you learn the habit now"

".. How should I stand, then?" she asks, as she checks herself.

"put your feet just a tiny bit apart, roll your shoulders and keep them back, lift your chin."

She frowns, but did as he asked.

"Now, that is how you look confident."

Hermione's mouth drops open, and he breaths a laugh, coming over.

"Confidence is quite important to succeed in various aspects of life, Miss Granger. But, for the spell, it will do if you just shift your wand a bit up in your hands, yes, like that and now wrap your fingers more-, no, around, no a bit lower, you need flexibility without losing a good grip, yes, now check your thumb and your fingers, yes, like that."

"But I thought-"

"A Standard Book Of Spells, Grade I?"

".. yes" she say slowly.

He shakes his head. "No..," he drawls, imitating her tone, "that explanation is only to assure people would not jab an eye out or something. _This_ is the proper way to hold your wand."

"Oh."

"Now try it again."

 _Flick, jab, end up and-_

He grabs a needle from the stack and approaches the cushion, driving the needle in deep, deep.

"Perfect," he whispers, and then looks at her, repeats the word.

And Hermione feels something surge through her, through her as she stares into his blue eyes and-

The moment is broken.

"I need to go," she says, "It is quite late already."

He hands her her bag, and opens the door for her.

"I'll see you tomorrow in class, then. Don't forget to prepare the assignment."

"Already did," she retorts and just manages to not stick her tongue out at him.

"Of course you did, silly me" he winks, and closes the door and she takes a deep breath, closes her eyes for a second-

And smiles like a fool for the rest of the evening.

 _ **.**_

She is sitting on his desk, cross legged, and he is leaning next to her, watching the pig she is transforming.

When she manages to do it perfectly, he gently pushes her wand away, banishes the pig and then:

"I'd really like to teach you to combine magic, Miss Granger. You are a very promising student, and I think you could, _you will_ achieve great things."

She laughs nervously "Whoever said 'flattery won't work on me' obviously never met _you._ "

He smiles at her, that slow lips-dragging-over-teeth-smile and she adds mentally _'charm too'._

"Is that a yes, then? I'd teach you the basics of the separate areas first, like we have been doing with transfigurations and then we'd start combining, and maybe add some runes too. You're going to take runes next year, aren't you?"

"I don't know why I even bother still going to class," she murmurs, "I could just learn everything from you"

"Yes, well, that is why I am proposing this," he smirks, "Instead of simply going ahead of Hogwarts' curriculum, we will be going more in depth. I will not be teaching you to simply _do_ magic, I will teach you the magic _itself_ , magic in the purest form, without separation or restrictions."

"I'd like that very much, Professor," she whispered, mesmerised by his words, his knowledge, his _power._

"Good," he says, "we'll finish the transfiguration themes and then I expect you'll be busy with your finals.. so, it will probably have to wait for next year. Are you taking runes next years? And what about the other courses?"

"I was actually considering taking them al.l"

" _All?"_ He frowns, "I would not do that if I were you. You will end up overexerting yourself."

"But they all sound so interesting!" she pouts.

He smiles "Muggle studies, though? Considering you come from Muggle background?"

"Yes, but it seems terribly fascinating to study them from wizard's point of view!"

"If that is what you are expecting, you will be quite disappointed. For someone like you, taking a Muggle studies course would be like.. say, take a basic English course. You'd learn words like hello and thank-you, how to go to the restaurant and to the store, and you will end up just getting annoyed by all the mistakes they teach you."

Hermione frowns, considering his words "I suppose you have a point," she concedes, "the other four, though?"

He snorts "Divination is rubbish. It is a gift one is _born_ with, like parseltongue, not something one acquires by dressing in overly large clothes, wearing too much perfume, and speaking of death and tragedy in a mystical tone, nursing the 'inner eye' in a comfy chair, and gaze into a fog-filled glass ball pretending to see something," his lip curls up, showing his distaste, "at least, that's what you get with a teacher like _Trelawney_ , who does not seem to respect any rational thought."

She laughs, "okay, okay, no divination and no Muggle studies. But I'll still be taking Ancient Runes, Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmancy."

"I wouldn't expect any less from you, Miss Granger."

She smiles.

 _ **.**_

"You gave me an _E_!" she exclaims, pouting.

He turns around, startled, and his face relaxes in an easy smile when he spots her in his doorway. She ignores the twist in her stomach.

"After a whole summer, this is how you greet me?" he asks, amused, and beckons her inside, "I can assume that you got of your train and headed over here immediately?"

She flushes and plops down in his chair carelessly. There is a loud screech and professor Riddle looks quite alarmed.

"Oh, yeah," she laughs, "Professor, meet my new cat, Crookshanks. Crooks, this is professor Riddle, be nice" she admonishes.

The cat in question meows indignantly and when Hermione releases him, jumps out of his box, licks his paw, and starts washing his face delicately.

Riddle approaches him, and Crooks sniffs cautiously, and then allows the caress. The professor chuckles and crouches to continue petting the cat.

He is dressed casually, still his clothes look very expensive. Black, well fitting pants, a loose shirt without tie showing of the beginning of a well sculpted chest.

He looks _good_ and Hermione's mouth suddenly goes dry.

She blinks, and looks away, muttering sullenly "I can't believe you only gave me an E," and he shakes his head, grinning at her.

"Well, you _did_ exceed my expectations. Besides, I knowyou can do better. And you still got the highest scores out of the whole year."

She smiles, slightly mollified by that.

"My little Gryffindor, only satisfied if she is the best," he says, amused.

"I am not little," she grumbles, and an unreadable look passes his face before his smirk widens. He looks kind of.. _hungry._

"Now, Miss Granger, I do believe you should attend the feast," he says as he stands up. Crookshanks stops purring and starts rolling over the carpet.

"Shouldn't _you_ attend too?"

"I plan to enter right after the sorting- so in five a ten minutes."

"The sorting!" she gasps.

"Poor hat," Riddle says, moving to the library, "he spends the whole year working on a song and you don't even dignify yourself with hearing it. Now," he looks at her, "prepare to learn one of the secrets of this room," and with that he presses a small, black book- it looks rather like a journal, leather-bound and it even has golden letters on it-

The library opens, revealing a room behind it.

Hermione's eyebrows rise, and he chuckles "It is only my dorm. I'm going to wash my hand and grab my cloak and tie and then we'll go down t the Great Hall."

Hermione walks over to Crooks and lowers herself to sit next to him on the carpet. The cat pads over to sit in her lap and she pets him absently, eyes wandering the room. A golden flicker catches her attention, and she frowns. Is that a-

"Ready to go?"

Shoving Crooks of her lap, he meows indignantly, she jumps up and after slight hesitation, feeling cautious, and feeling _ridiculous_ about feeling cautious asks:

"Professor, is that- is that a _time turner_?"

"A replica," he replies after a beat, following her gaze, "I understand this one has a nasty side effect if you try to use it as a real one, hence why it is in my possession. I am investigating it. Besides," he chuckles, "not even Unspeakables manage to get their hands on real ones, how would _I_ ever manage?"

He sounds very amused by this.

She nods, though a replica? And then asks: "Unspeakables?"

He frowns "sometimes I forget how much you don't know about this world, "come, I'll expain it to you along the way," and he sweeps out his arm, indicating that she should go first.

 _ **.**_

"But, professor!" she exclaims, "this is dark magic!"

He arches an eyebrow, as if asking _'what is your point, exactly?"_

"But.. only _evil people_ practice dark magic"

He smiles indulgently: "There is no good or evil, Miss Granger, there is only powerand those too _weak_ to seek it."

The fourteen year old shakes her head, thrusting the book back into his hand. He accepts it with a blank look on his face, though she swears his eyes flash red for a second.

 _Just a trick of the light_ she tells herself, but still she looks stricken.

He smiles then, slowly, predatory:

"Ten points to Gryffindor, for firmly standing by what you believe is right."

She smiles, delighted, forgets about her fear.

"What about.. the Patronus Charm?" he continues.

Her eyes widen "But, professor, that's like really advanced magic!"

"And all the transfigurations and charms we have been doing last year are not?", he says, amused, "you have surpassed the level of many fifth years already, now desperately studying for OWL's you'll have no trouble getting."

She frowns and he edges:

"Besides, we can try, can we not? Aren't Gryffindors known for their daring, bold personality?"

"Yes, well, sometimes I think I ought to have been a Ravenclaw instead."

"Endless pursuit of knowledge, then. Ah, ah," he adds, seeing the grin on her face, "You are certainly no Hufflepuff- which would be perseverance and hard work- and if you say Slytherin, I say determination," he teases.

"Fine," she grumbles, "Expecto Patronum, right?"

He smirks- she suppresses the urge to stick her tongue out- and starts his explanation.

 _ **.**_

"I can't do it," she proclaims, moody and sullen because after seven weeks, _seven_ , she still is no further than a few silvery wisps.

"Then, you choose another memory," he frowns, "again."

"No!"

"Miss Granger-"

"What if I really can't?" she asks, trying to restrain her anger and frustration.

"How do you mean? There isn't a spell you haven't been able to do. You just need to focus on a very happy-"

"I haven't got one of those!" she exclaims, flinging her hands up. Her wand slips out of her hand accidently and she winces as it clatters loudly on the ground.

His steps are measured as he picks up her wand and hands it back to her. She mumbles a quiet '"thanks" and keeps looking at the ground as she feels his eyes track her face.

"There are.. other methods of course but, no, I will _not_ let you give up, Miss Granger. What about.. the first time you came to Hogwarts?"

"Already tried that one," she says, bitterly, "the only good thing Hogwarts has given me are the lessons and you. Maybe the food too, though but-"

She debates with herself, to admit it or not.

"Lavender Brown and her little friends, and soon to be boyfriend. Same thing at home too. I have many happy memories with my parents, but they are not strong enough apparently."

She is on the verge of crying now, but she wills herself not to- he will only find it weak.

His face does not change, but his eyes display a myriad of things, all go by too quickly for her to understand.

"Another emotion then, equally strong. If not happiness.. what about.. _love,"_ he looks pained by the word, "or better yet, triumph? It can be the.. warm, _frizzy_ kind, or cold, determined"

He raises an eyebrow, sure she will choose the first one.

Hermione thinks, pictures the perfect memory.

 _"Expecto Patronum"_ she whispers, letting the feeling overwhelm her, revelling in it.

A silver otter, sprouts from her wand, darts around her head and then nuzzles Professor Riddle's neck before it dashes out of the window and disappears into the clouds.

"I did it" she squeals, hopping two times.

"Very good" he praises, "what was the memory?"

"Uhm, I-I, well-," she's rather ashamed of this story but "I was five. It is one of the only memories I have from that age. There was- there was this awful, terrible girl. Her name.. _Emily_. And we had been colouring and working with scissors, and she had been mocking me the whole day already and then, she goes and chops of a bit of my hair and-

\- God, I was _so_ mad."

"What happened?" He asked softly. She startles a bit, having forgotten about his presence.

"The scissor went straight through her hand," Hermione admitted, "she almost lost a finger. Later, I felt terribly guilty, though of course since I had never touched her no one believed me when I insisted it was my fault.. But _right_ after it happened, even before she started screaming and just watched the scissor in her hand with a shocked face- I felt _so proud_ of myself."

Something flashed in his eyes, and the orange glow of the setting sun made him look rather sinister as he nodded slowly.

"Good," he said at last, "you know which memory to use from now on. That was all for charms. Next time we'll start with the basic Defence spells I haven't covered in class yet, and then we can start combining."

"Okay," Hermione said, gathering her stuff.

"And Miss Granger?" he asked when she was almost at the door, "Did that girl, Emily, ever bother you again?"

"No," she answered, narrowing her eyes a bit in thought, "no, she never did."

"What makes her so different from Lavender Brown and Ronald Weasley then?" and his eyebrows raised.

Hermione took a sharp intake of breath. _How did he even know? What- why, did he mean what she thought he meant-_

"No need to answ-"

"I don't know," _what?_ She was not ready to answer that. Why was she so honest?

"I suggest you figure it out then" he looked satisfied, and his smile had a cruel twist. Hermione found herself nodding, actually considering his words and left quickly.

The conversation, however, never does quite leaves her thoughts..

 _ **.**_

"So.. felt too good for Divination? Decided to get some extra _tutoring_ lessons with Professor Riddle instead?"

 _No._

Hermione closes her eyes for a second and stares longingly at the tapestry _two footsteps_ away from her. There is a tiny alcove behind it, comfy and cosy and snug and she wants that _so_ badly. To just disappear from this world. To go up in the sky, or maybe fall down like a leave or a raindrop and to just be left alone to do what she wants to do without judgement.

To be _invisible_ , even, only for a little while.

But if she ignores Lavender now, if she enters it, the only place in this castle she finds rest will no longer be only hers and she-

"Well, Lavender," she says, sweetly, but also clenching her book tighter, hoping she doesn't sound as trapped as she feels, "maybe some people actually _appreciate_ intelligence."

Lavender snorts and al but screeches " _Appreciate_? What, do you think he appreciates _you?_ " she gives Hermione an once over, to emphasise how unlikely she finds it, how _undeserving_ she finds her of any sort of positive emotion, "or do you maybe think he likes you?"

The last part is said in a mockingly pitying girly tone, and Lavender pouts a bit before she smirks, revealing perfect straight, white teeth.

"Face it, Hermione," her tone is sharp now, "even the ugliest man on earth would rather be with a troll than _you_. _"_

A few of the curious people who had gathered around look away, but most of them laugh. Laugh and point and nudge each other and she catches Draco Malfoy mouthing 'troll' at her, and Lavender revels in the attention-

Hermione flees away, and locks herself up in the bathroom, hot tears running over her cheeks.

 _ **.**_

The next day Lavender Brown falls from the stairs as they suddenly give a vicious jolt and change direction a second before they should change. The screaming girl is carried to the infirmary quickly, and Madame Pomfrey's diagnosis is a severely fractured bone. (Her wand arm is broken in three different places, one of which the elbow.)

However, no amount of skelegrow seems to fix the damage, so Madame Pomrey, desperate, does a modified healing spell.

She does not dare to do it all the way because the skelegrow didn't help, so Lavender has to wear a plaster cast for three weeks, like Muggles do.

Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick charm the girls quill and bag to write, pack and unpack for itself, but wand work, including her daily charms- are out of the question.

She is also unable to apply her make-up.

Also, because the cast is so uncomfortable, she cannot sleep well, which gets her bags under her eyes, and she cannot use make up to hide them.

After a mere week.. Lavender Brown looks horrendous.

So horrendous, that even _Draco Malfoy_ sidles up next to Hermione in the Great Hall and says loudly:

"Have you looked into the mirror lately Brown? Because next to you our troll looks like a beauty queen."

Lavender breaks down and runs away, and Malfoy offers Hermione an arrogant smirk before returning to the Slytherin table.

Hermione cannot suppress her smile from Lavender's reaction and Malfoy's not-quite-compliment, and leaves the Great Hall excitedly.

The interaction, however, has not gone completely unnoticed by the table across the Hall, and two pair of eyes, their owners sitting at the teacher table, follow the girl until she disappears behind the doorway.

Hermione receives a note from Professor Riddle, and that same evening he hands her her very first butterbeer and toasts: "To the first of many.. _achievements_. _"_

Over all, it has the desired effect.

Lavender Brown never bothers Hermione again.

 _ **.**_

The remainder of the year passes by quickly and before she knows it, fourth year is there.

It starts with an announcement, about the Triwizard tournament being held in the school.

Hermione passes her time missing Professor Riddle, who is busy preparing the tasks and helping out Hufflepuffs, trying to ignore the feeling of Dumbledore's eyes on her.

It all changes when Viktor Krum takes an interest in a quiet girl in the library.

It's the start of something new.

 _ **.**_

Draco Malfoy curses her in front of Professor Snape, who dismisses the incident by pretending he sees _no change._

Ron Weasley laughs at her, conveniently forgetting _he_ was the one the curse was meant for. Hermione flees, tears in her eyes and a hand in front of her mouth.

Madame Pomfrey fixes her teeth and Hermione makes her go on a little longer, to make them better.

She ignores the stomach feeling she gets when Professor Riddle's eyes widen, the moment she presents him a perfect smile.

 _ **.**_

"Hermione?"

"Yes?" she asks, whirling around.

A timid first year stands, a Hufflepuff with too large glasses and a big scroll in his hand.

"You're Hermione Granger?"

".. I am" she says, slowly.

"Oh."

She waits one second, three, five.

"Did you _need_ something?" she asks, a tad impatient.

The boy flushes and presses the scroll in to her hand. After a beat he starts staring at her again.

"Something _else_?"

"Are you going to open it?"

She rolls her eyes "Not now."

"Oh" he mutters again.

She narrows her eyes at him and suddenly he flinches and leaves veryquickly.

 _What was-_

 _Oh_

The letter in her hand is from the headmaster.

And he is summoning her.

 _Oh_

 _ **.**_

"Lemon drop?"

"No thank you, Professor" she replies, a tad shy.

He sighs, a bit of pressure behind the exhale and puts the little box away. Then, he crosses his hands, leans his head on it and looks her in the eyes.

She suddenly feels.. _very exposed._ Like he is starring straight into her soul.

It is an even worse feeling than the one she has with Professor Riddle.

"Do you know why I asked you to come, Hermione?"

"No, Headmaster" her curls bounce as she shakes her head.

"It has come to my attention that you have been spending much time with.. _Professor Riddle_."

"Oh," she exclaims, "yes, he offered to give me some extra lessons."

He smiles at her "But your grades are near perfect."

She feels.. _on edge_ suddenly. Like there is something he wants to know, is pulling out of her, but she does not want him to know.

It's a ridiculous feeling of course, because she has never done anything wrong.. really wrong.

"He is not tutoring me or anything, no" she smiles softly, tries to put charm behind words, "just teaching me some extras."

She looks away shyly and back up again, meeting his gaze.

"I hope- I mean, I could do the things in the lessons already. And he offered me knowledge. He-"

He was _magnetic._ Charismatic. He radiated confidence. _Power._

"Hermione," he hesitates, forges on "you do know that certain.. _relationships_ get punished at schools? In the Muggle and Wizard world?"

"Relationships? Oh, _oh,_ no it's not like that at all!" she laughs, brilliantly, because, honestly, what a _ridiculous_ idea.

"I am sorry. I just had to know."

Dumbledore smiles again, but she does not feel at ease at all. His twinkling eyes, how they bore into her own, his attitude, his smiling ease, his desk full of trinkets.

It makes her feel rather claustrophobic. Like a fly caught in a spiders web.

 _Somehow, Riddle's web is more appealing._

Her eyes open wide involuntarily, because where the hell came that last thought from? And Professor Dumbledore is speaking again and-

"-Anything at all. No matter how small. Untoward, or anything that makes you feel uncomfortable. _Anything._ Maybe even.. something he is teaching you?"

Well.. technically he is not teaching you dark magic?

No.

Yes.

She doesn't know.

"That's very kind of you Professor. But I can assure you he has been a perfect gentleman."

Oh she does not like it here, she does not like it at all. She feels hot and invaded and what is he even _suggesting_ and that dark book magic, no, that wasn't anything and Lavender, Lavender, Lavender, but no, but yes-

 _To the first of many achievements._

And his blue eyes, other blue eyes, both blue, dark, reading here, laying her bare, legilimency and oclumency, Professor Riddle, Dumbledore, lo-

No.

Lavender?

 _Lavender?_

"Is there anything you wish to tell me?"

And raised eyebrows and twinkling, twinkling, trinkets, blue eyes.

Suddenly she knows.

It screams manipulation.

"No," she chokes out, composing herself, blinking fast, "no" smiling.

"Are you all right-"

"I have been feeling a bit tired Professor" she smiles, fully composed, sits very straight, "I think Madame Pomfreys' potions perhaps will do the trick."

She stands up, a tad too fast, so she adds:

"Thank you for your concern."

Smiles again, until her face hurts.

He nods, and dismissed she turns to walk away, forcing herself to not leave to fast and to just breathe.

That night two different sets of blue eyes stare at her and she does not know which one to choose.

She forgets the dream when she wakes up.

Still. It _lingers._

 _ **.  
**_ "I heard you were summoned by Professor Dumbledore?"

"Oh, yes! He, uhm-"

"He?" raised eyebrows, an expression she knew well enough.

"Well, he wanted to talk about.. about you" she shrugs, chuckles a bit, but his eyes are tracking her face and she knows he knows there is more.

"About _me_?"

"About.. us."

"Oh, I see."

"Professor?"

He looks furious.

"So, what did you tell him?"

"The truth. That I have been feeling unchallenged by Hogwarts Curriculum, and you offered me something more."

"The.. truth" he repeats, his eyes narrowing, "because that's all there is to it, isn't it, Miss Granger?"

"It is, Professor Riddle."

"Good" he says slowly, nodding in approval, "I heard you enjoyed the Jule ball?"

"The.. oh, yes" forgetting her confusion about the sudden subject change, "it was.. _magical_ " she says with a wistful smile.

"Really? Because _I_ saw a crying girl on the stairs with no trace of her date."

"Wha-" she breathes, " _how?"_ and her voice breaks a little.

"I was on rounds" he shrugs, "I decided not to approach you because..- well, crying girls have never been my forte."

"It was Ron Weasley," she admits, "accusing me of fraternising with the enemy.. as if he has ever thought that I belonged in Hogwarts so much. Or in Gryffindor, for that matter. Viktor was.. really sweet"

" _Sweet_?" he asks, and for a moment Hermione hears a derisive tone.

She hums, and turns away slightly. Out of the corner of her eye she detects a sudden movement, and alarmed she looks back at him.

How odd. She could have _sworn_ he had lunged at her, but he is standing there, fully composed. Only his eyes-

They seem more.. _intense_ somehow. Jealous?

Ridiculous, of course.

She breathes in, out and asks a question she has wondered about for ages, to distract herself:

"Professor, that ring you always wear?"

He twist the black stone on the ring and arches an eyebrow.

"An old family heirloom," he says at last, and he sounds amused, "it is very dear to me. There is a connection, somehow."

He is definitely amused, though Hermione doesn't understand what is so funny.

"Right," she says, "it's beautiful."

His grin widens. "Thank you."

She shrugs, awkwardly, hates his perfect teeth (her parents would wholeheartedly approve) and the fuzzy feeling she gets inside.

He is still staring at her.

 _Stop imagining things, Hermione_ she scolds herself.

There has never been something between them.

There never will.

She doesn't feel anything for him.

 _Right._

 _ **.**_

Hogwarts wins the Triwizard tournament.

Viktor presses a kiss to her cheek as goodbye and she promises to write him letters over the summer.

Professor Riddle summons her one more time before summer break, congratulates her on her perfect scores, does this with a wink, and proposes a whole new project for fifth year.

"I know I haven't been able to give you that much extra lessons this year, but your runes are perfect, and so is your combination of them with transfiguration and charm. So-"

".. So?"

"Would you like to become an animagus?"

Hermione's mouth falls open.

"But Professor, doesn't that has to be regulated by millions of laws?"

"That was not the question, Miss Granger"

She debates with herself, silently, furiously. Why not?

 _Why not?_

"I'd like that, Professor" she says, finally.

"Good," he says with a smile, "I'll see you next year then.. Hermione"

It is the first time he has used her given name.

She likes the sound of it on his tongue.

 _ **.**_

"Now, _focus_ " he breathes, "you're almost there, Hermione. I know you can do it. Wand? Position? Spell?"

"yes" she forces out, fighting against the magic overwhelming her, trying to keep her balance.

"Keep your eyes closed, focus, draw on your magic core. Let it define you, let it _change_ you."

"I- ugh, I- it hurts" she whines out

"I know, I know" he says soothingly, "it is a painful process, but you're nearly there, and if you give up you will not come this close again. I know you can do it, Hermione, I know you."

"I- oh, _oh_. _"_

"Focus, focus! Don't let it slip away. Have you got it?"

"Ye-es, I,.. I? I think I've got.. it."

If she wasn't focussing so hard she would be embarrassed by her eloquence. But it feels as if every nerve ending of her body is burning, it is taking everything she has to keep _focussing_ and she doesn't understand why he just doesn't let her say the spell already.

There is an odd hissing sound, loud then still, changing intonations. But when she starts to open her eyes he almost snarls: "Keep them _closed_ , Hermione. Focus."

"I need to be sure, little lioness" he whispers a second later, the last part so silently she is not sure she heard him, but there are fingertips dancing on her neck and she _needs_. She _wants-_

She's not quite sure what she wants honestly. To get the foul taste of mandrake leaves out of her mouth. Yes. That is what she wants.

"I am sure!"

Expecting a 'just a little more' she is wholly unprepared when he agrees.

"Say the spell, than."

"Wha-"

"Don't. Loose. Focus. Hermione."

"Ye- Yes" she breathes, and starts the spell.

"Good, good, and now for the finish."

 _"-Incantamus finites!"_ she says, and feels the magic pulling at her, changing her, sweeping her away.

Intelligent eyes stare back at her from the mirror Professor Riddle set up in advance. She whirls around, willing to see every angle of her body, now covered in beautiful fur.

"Ah," Professor Riddle chuckles, "A Wildcat. How fitting."

She bares her teeth at him and growls. He has the audacity to laugh.

"You conserved your freckles as your mark," he remarks, and slightly touches her nose. He moves her whisker, and she spins at the feeling, eyes wide.

He laughs again "yes, it takes some adjusting."

She wants to ask him why it is fitting, but all that comes out are meows. So she cocks her head in question.

He understands that she is asking something, and answers:

"Fitting because you're beautiful, graceful, yet.. _deadly_."

She looks at herself again, long, classifying everything. Her light brown fur, same colour as her hair, the intelligent brown eyes staring back at her, the white, sharp teeth, the light freckles across her elegant face.

Experimentally, she lifts a paw and flexes her nails in and out, in and out, transfixed by the image. She has the urge to claw and bite and maim and tear and _see blood-_

She also has the urge to lick the paw so she chooses to do that instead, rubbing it carefully against her face.

Professor Riddle chuckles again, and bends down to pet her, just like he did Crookshanks two years ago. She wonders if the cat would let her play with him in this form. She also wonders if she could get him to kill Ronald Weasley's pet ra-

 _Oh_ , that feels good. Involuntarily she starts purring, and rubs her head against the Professor's hand. Her fur gets snagged in his ring, and there is an odd humming sensation that follows it. It feels- _electric_ , weirdly.

"Sorry," he mumbles, freeing the ring and then he smiles and gestures at the mirror.

"Don't we look good together?" he asks softly.

In response, she licks his face.

His eyes widen as he very slowly brings his hand to his face, looking at her admonishingly. "Time to change back I think, Hermione."

She purrs again, rubs against his legs as he stands up, intent on leaving as much fur on him as she can, and then focuses on the changing back.

It's much easier this time, and she looks at her hands, in wonder.

"You have been teaching me so many things, Professor" she says, turning to him and freezing.

He is standing very close, and she suddenly feels.. _electrified._ Goosebumps erupt on her arms and neck at the intense look on his face.

"And I wish to teach so much more" he says softly, bringing his hand up to her face to tuck away a loose strand of hair.

Hermione suddenly forgets how to breathe.

There is something dark in his eyes, something possessive, and-

She has never acknowledged it before, her beating heart around him. She has never _wanted_ to admit it, never wanted to link her stomach to his presence, told herself over and over again that he is her _teacher._

Her mouth is dry- biologic response of the sympathetic nervous system, and _why_ is she thinking about _that_ \- and she licks her lips. The movement sends Professor Riddle's tracking eyes to her mouth, his gaze fixing on her moistened lips, pupils dilating, looking _hungry_ and she feels-

She feels very on edge, very tense, ready to run away, to say something, to break the tension and yet oddly, not wanting to break it, but oh God, something has to happen, she feels sweaty and tense, and warm and something _has to happen._

He is still tracking her face, seems to see something that helps him decide, because he is bending forward, his mouth coming closer, and her eyes are closing and-

"Professor Ri- oh" Professor Sinistra stands in the door opening.

He acts very quickly, swatting at Hermione's hair, even pulling a few strands out before he moves away.

"Aw!" Hermione exclaims, but he shushes her, opens his hand and pretends to crush something with his foot.

"Sorry, Miss Granger. But I don't think you would have wanted that insect to bite you. It should be fine, though maybe Madame Pomfrey could give you a paralysis potion"

"Was it a-" starts Professor Sinistra, looking aghast.

"Yes," Riddle cuts her off, "I haven't seen one in ages. Maybe a student entered them. It wouldn't surprise me. Now-"

He fixes Sinistra with his gaze.

"You believe me and you see no necessity to tell anyone?"

She blinks, confused "yes."

"Good," he says pleasantly, holding one hand up to stop Hermione from protesting. Not that she is even thinking about it, she is just too _relieved._

"What can I help you with, Aurora?"

Sinistra looks at Hermione hesitantly.

"I think I'll be on my way than," Hermione says quickly, "Madame Pomfrey, right?"

"Yes, Miss Granger."

"Thank you again, Professor" she nods before hurrying away.

 _ **.**_

He falls into step next to her.

"I find myself unable to see you for the next couple of days, Miss Granger," he says, but before she can even look disappointed he adds: "But don't worry. I _fully_ intend to finish what we started"

There is an odd, threatening undertone, but Hermione shrugs it off, follows him with her gaze until he rounds the corner.

That night, she puts silencing charms around her bed and starts a gentle exploration of her own body, that only leaves her panting and wanting more.

Wanting him.

 _ **.**_

"Oh, _oh,_ Professor!"

"Hermione," he pants, a grin on his face, "I am literally _inside_ you. I think you can call me Tom now."

He is laughing at her, so as retaliation she digs her nails into his back, hard.

Groaning, he drives his teeth into her neck, harder. When he kisses her, there is blood on his lips, and the coppery taste fills her mouth.

There is blood under her nails, too.

"Pro- oh God, _Tom_!" she exclaims when he starts moving again, the pain of her loss of virginity already forgotten.

"Glad you think so, darling" he says, peppering kisses on her bruised lips. He reaches down to play with her sensitive peak of flesh, his other hand tugging at her nipple, but he still comes before she does.

 _It's normal if you are a virgin,_ she remembers, _but_ -

"Wha- what are you doing?" she asks, alarmed.

"What does it look like I am doing?" he retorts, giving her a cocky grin before he settles between her legs.

 _Oh God._ She must be filthy, dripping with his semen, and he is going down on her _now_?

"Mine, all mine" he murmurs between licks, and he keeps working at her until she forgets her mortification and comes all over again, agreeing with him.

His, all his.

Hers, all hers.

 _ **.**_

A week later the dreams start.

She awakes with sweat on her skin, blood on her fingers and screams on her lips.

She awakes with prayers to Gods she doesn't believe in, and curses for devils she doesn't acknowledge.

They only get worse, and after a while she starts realizing something.

Noticing a pattern, she decides to research it.

Though, it can't be, really.

Can it?

When the library confirms her worst suspicion she feels shocked, and betrayed.

Curling her hands into fist, she decides it is time to have a conversation with a _beloved_ professor.

The lying son-of-a-bitch.

 _ **.**_

She walks into his office and goes straight for the library. She pushes the black journal like she has seen him do, but instead of revealing the dorm it tumbles to the ground, and the pages fall open.

How odd. It is entirely blank.

She picks it up to check and indeed, the pages are all unwritten. And then, she notices. It _hums._ Just like the ring did. She gets the bizarre urge to write in it and why-

The library opens.

"Hermione?" he asks, surprised, "what are you doing here so late?" he takes the book from her and places it back carefully. The golden inscription reads: T.M. Riddle.

"There is a security," he explains, "it can only be opened if it is pushed the right way"

Not bothering to reply she whirls around, crosses the room and slams the book on the desk.

His steps are careful, measured when he follows her to look at the page she has laid open. When he sees what is written on it, his expression makes place for a derisive, amused one.

He isn't even trying to deny it, _the bastard._

"I did wonder how long it would take you to figure it out," he admits, "it has started then?"

His face fills with joy as he reaches for her. She jumps away, flinching violently.

"Don't _touch_ me," she hisses, and then, "why?" and her voice _breaks._

He looks- not apologetic, but something quite.. near that?

"I needed a way to be able to introduce you to the more enriching parts of magic, with or without your consent."

"You needed a way to..? And so you put an alternation in the animagus spell? To justify.. _what_ exactly?"

"I expected more of you, you know" he muses, ignoring her question completely, "as my star pupil, did I not say in my classes to never accept a magical spell from someone else without thoroughly checking it first because it could have been altered to do you harm? Not that this one will do you harm, like I would ever allow it, but I did say that. And you just.. blindly repeated after me."

"Blindly.." she echoes, and then she screeches, "I _trusted_ you. I trusted you and you.. you betrayed me. And you.. you have been corrupting me with dark magic!"

"Oh my little Gryffindor. After all this time and you still don't know? One has to be _willing_ to be blessed with dark magic, one has to be open for it. And you.. well you were quite willing, were you not?"

He speaks of dark magic with near reverence and first she scrunches up her nose until his words register and she just-

She _lunges_ for him.

She lunges for him. She loses her control that much that she actually tries to attack him and he- he just casually raises one hand and she finds herself unable to move.

With another gesture her wand flies away from her, and then he comes closer, closer still, tucking her hair behind her hear with herwand.

"Hermione, Hermione, my darling Hermione. Shall I prove it to you? How open you are to dark magic in comparison with others?"

" _What_?" she starts asking.

He snaps his fingers. "Lippy"

The tiny elf appears immediately, bowing deep down for him.

"What can Lippy do for master?"

"Fetch me.." he hums, throwing a glance at Hermione, "Lavender Brown"

"Remind me to teach you wandless magic, yes?" he says once Lippy has vanished and Hermione sneers at him. He is so _not_ funny.

He chuckles and then he turns around, and using _her_ wand starts putting up a whole lot of silencing and warding spells.

Hermione's stomach turns. Oh God. What is he even going to do to Lavender?

Right on cue, Lippy appears with an unconscious Lavender, throws the girl down and leaves with a bow to her and Professor Riddle.

"Yes, Lippy and I bonded over Shepherds' pie," he laughs, "now, relax, I am only going to prove it to you. No harm will come to her. Well, not much"

He runs a finger down her spine and when she shivers he gives her a satisfied smirk. Then he points her wand at Lavender.

" _Ennervate_. _Silencio_ "

A horrified looking Lavender locks accusing eyes with Hermione and Tom chuckles and presses butterfly kisses on her neck. He then moves swiftly away from Hermione and to Lavender, who tries to scramble away, but with a flick of Tom's fingers she is unable to move as well.

"Tom," Hermione whispers, "really, whatever you are going to do-"

He doesn't even listen to her. Instead he has put the wand away and he is cupping his hands and in his hands..

She inhales sharply. In his hands he is holding _magic._ And how, but what, and isn't, she, how is it even possible? But really, it is unmistakably. It pulses and it waves and it swirls and it looks dark and ready to lash out.

"See?" Tom murmurs, "you see it, Hermione, you feel it. You smell it, too. I know you have often wondered what the spicy, alluring sent is you smell in this office. This is it. It's my magic. _She_ is not able to see nor smell it. She is not as connected to it as you are. Not as _affined_. And look"

He comes closer to her, and horrified Hermione watches how strands of _her_ magic join his as the air around her fizzles and a pleasant feeling overcomes her. She fights it, fights it but.. but what?

Moving to Lavender, he also extends his hand. Enthralled Hermione notices that white wisps withdraw as he comes closer and the girl shuts her eyes tight, as in pain.

Tom's voice is magnetic as he continues "Do you want to know what happens if I touch her, Hermione? Do you want to _see?"_

"Tom.." Hermione whispers as Lavender whimpers, because she thinks she knows and _no_ she does not want to see, "please don't."

He pays her no attention, face so very concentrated, holding himself back. Crouching as he extends his arm, and with visible force he frees his pinkie and touches Lavender's arm.

The girl _screams,_ the silencing charm broken, the magic Tom is sending into her eating the wisps away, and she trashes as if under the cruciatus.

Tom pulls away the magic and the scream ends abruptly, Lavender unconscious. Her arm is bloody.

He stands up and comes closer to Hermione. His voice still magnetic. Always magnetic.

"See? It would have devoured and killed her? What if it touches _you_ , my darling?"

"No, no, please," Hermione sobs but Tom only smirks and presses the whole ball into her chest.

"Ah!" she exclaims, her knees buckling, her eyes falling shut. The torches in the office flicker and go out. Tom catches her as she falls, she clutches him as if he is the last solid structure in the world, the magic swirls around and around them, faster, faster, it is consuming her, this sensation, too much, too much and yet not enough.

Distantly she differentiates Tom's anxious face, notices his magic leaving her, being called back, his panicked voice as he yells her name again and again "Hermione, _Hermione_ " but all she can do is hold on, the world is turning and when she closes her eyes it becomes worse, a sour taste in her mouth, turning, turning, and she can't, she can't-

She vomits.

She blacks out.

 _ **.**_

She is feeling good. She is feeling _very_ good. There is a hand stroking her hear and she is comfortable, snuggled deep into a warm blanket on a soft bed.

It takes her a moment to remember the where and the how of her situation but when she does she bolts upright and locks accusing eyes on To- Profe- Riddle.

He is unfazed, lying on his side all relaxed and without shirt and oh, _oh._

"Ho-" she means to ask how long she was out but her voice croaks horribly and she feels a sudden headache and nausea come up.

"Just for the night," he answers her unspoken question as he hands her a glass of water and then adds: "Lavender Brown is fine, sleeping soundly and with no recollection of yesterday's events"

Hermione narrows her eyes at him as she gulps down her water. She then stands up from the bed without a word, and moves to the door. He doesn't make a sound and for a moment she dares to hope.. to no avail.

The door is locked.

"You didn't think I just would let you go, did you?"

"One can dare to hope, professor" she says, and her voice is all ice.

"Of course," he concedes easily, "but you see, we both have a problem"

" _We_?!" and her voice is a screech.

He shushes her: "Yes, _We_ have a problem. I could lose my job, and you could get expelled"

"I hardly doubt I'd get ex-"

"Lavender, darling? And the unregistered animagus. Plus, the sex with your teacher."

"Something that will _never_ happen again" she hisses.

He hums, unimpressed. Then: "I propose an agreement."

".. I am listening" she draws it out, says it slow.

"Like an.. altered unbreakable vow. We both protect each other."

"Why would I ever trust you and any alteration you make again? I may be dumb but I am not _stupid_ you know."

"You've never been either, Hermione" he says, dangerous.

She crosses her arms.

He sighs.

"A magical contract then. We both state our terms and we compromise."

After two hours of trying to be a Slytherin, Hermione signs, leaves and is determined to never see him again.

Part of the contract is exactly that. He does not have the right to seek her out, except for academic purposes. Or if she seeks him out first. The first one will _definitely_ never happen again.

And since they are in a _school_ , she is sure the second will never happen either.

Right.

 _ **.**_

Hermione spends her days avoiding Tom Riddle, ignoring the persistent dreams and aches and researching the altered spell.

But for once, the library disappoints her terribly.

Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing.

Nothing.

So one night, she sneaks into the restricted section.

She has only forgotten one tiny detail.

Old curses usually tend to dislike Muggleborns.

It is a night after the exams that she makes the terrible mistake of touching a cursed book.

Tom finds her, carries her to his room and saves her, ignoring her incoherent mumbles about being left alone.

When she is all healed up again, she notices that she didn't dream or had sweaty palms and headaches _again_.

That same pattern was the one that had helped her make the discovery of the altered spell.

He offers her a smirk when he sees the (probably) obvious thought written all over her face and opens the door with a mockingly chivalrous bow.

His parting words haunt her all summer long.

 _"You can try to stay away all you want, darling, but eventually you'll come running back to me anyways."_

 _._

He opens the door, and she wants to slap the smug expression right off his face.

"Hermione?" he asks, but it is not a question at all. It is ironic, and cruel and _all_ Tom.

How did she never notice that side of him before?

And how many times had she made this trip, feverish with desire, just managing to hold herself back and turn away before she knocked? But.. she can't handle it anymore.

When he notices her distressed state, her ruffled appearance his face sets tight in concern. He gets her inside and inspects her, going over her once, twice.

"Has it affected you that much?" he asks, softly, and then he pulls her closer, "I told you you would need me, didn't I?"

She shudders in his embrace, but doesn't try to get away anymore.

 _(Somewhere deep down, she knows he is right.)_

She also knows he is dark, knows she should run away as fast as she can, knows that he has gotten her _exactly_ where he wants her to be, addicted to his magic and practically his little slave, and this, the way he is kissing her, touching her, bending her over the couch, running the head of his cock up and down to collect moisture before driving in, the way his right hand is fingering her clit just so, and the left is sending delicious jolts of dark magic into her skin-

She needs it like she needs to breathe.

 _ **.**_

"What do you mean, _no_?" she asks, incredulous.

"I think you should start growing and using your own magic instead of feeding from mine the whole time, my little Gryffindor"

He flicks her nose gently, lightly, as if she is a little girl and reaches behind him to offer her a large tome.

"What happened to 'ten points to Gryffindor, for firmly standing by what you believe is right'?"

"I am not forcing you, am I, Hermione? In fact, I have never forced _anything_ upon you, have I?"

She snorts.

"That agreement was for both our benefit as you well know. And this,.. we'll let's call it 'plucking the fruits of my investments'. Now go, and when you finish reading it we can reassume our classes. And all our _other_ activities."

 _ **.**_

"Is this why you made me read this book, Tom?"

He bends forward to inspect it but she slams it shut, shoves it almost into his face.

Instead one pale hand grips the book, the other twists her wrists together, pulling her toward him.

"I don't appreciate the lack of respect you've been showing me recently, Hermione. I assure you, I have been quite the gentleman with you. Before you even protest-"

Under his burning glare, she slowly closes her mouth.

"- I can assure you, you do _not_ want to find out what it would be like if I behaved otherwise, not just what you perceive as not gentlemanly"

He lets go of her, and she rubs her wrists.

"As for the book, yes, I was intrigued on your opinion on the theme, because I value your opinion greatly, Hermione, and your intelligence even more. But since I know we don't really discuss much anymore-" he holds up a finger, she rolls her eyes but closes her mouth again. He smirks "- I thought this to be the only way."

"But there is more. You want me to agree."

"Agree?"

"Perform one with you."

He smiles slowly. Now she finds it sinister rather than charming.

"It certainly appeals to me, yes, but I've said so before. I will never force you to do something you don't want."

She sighs "No, just persuade me and manipulate me and make me dependent on you and hurt a classmate and give me no way out- and now a _bonding ritual?_ So, basically like getting married?"

He approaches her, takes her face between his hands and kisses her.

It is a slow kiss, gentle, his thumb stroking her cheekbones and she feels a surge of sadness and joy at the same time- he has never been this kind with her before.

"I'm stuck with you either way, right?" she asks when he pulls back and he hums, smiles and kisses her again.

 _ **.**_

 _I'm stuck with you either way, right?_

But Hermione also had something else in mind. This way she could control him. This way she could make them both dependant of each other instead of just her of him.

She had searched and searched. Read every book on the subject. They were all very clear. Once exposed to that kind of magic there is no going back. She could force herself to abstain, but then she would be like a drug addict- craving for more and stopping at nothing to get it. Apparently the need just got worse. Apparently there was no way to get used to the absence.

So a bond wouldn't be that bad, would it? Maybe if she found a way to break it she could make only him dependant. Or just, stick with it. Hermione wasn't proud to admit it, but she-

Maybe she loved him.

Maybe he loved her.

Maybe she was simply _delusional._

But..- but this way she could figure out his identity, his 'not gentleman side'. This way she could learn his plans.

"I choose the ritual" she had said, and he had shrugged.

"Do whatever you like, darling" he smirked, "let's just not wait until we consummate it."

And with that no speech had been required for the next few hours.

 _ **.**_

He was behaving so odd, lately. Ever since they had performed the bond. He kissed her on her cheeks, lips, forehead, was gentle, stroked her hand with his thumb, smiled softly every time their eyes met.

He was like a love struck schoolboy, and she wondered if it was a side effect or if it was because he felt so fulfilled and so achieved. As if she was a goal he had finally obtained.

Hermione lay awake in bed at nights, when she was alone that is, and tried to pierce the puzzle together. She was a highly logical person, and she felt as if she missed puzzle pieces in the story. Nothing made sense. The private lessons, the alteration in the spell. The way it had been activated with sex. The magic connection. The way he had started seeking her out from the moment they met.. like the Halloween conversation-

 _The Halloween conversation._

She bolted upright.

What had he told her again? A girl had died fifty years ago. But Hermione had researched it then, and she had never found that information. She had simply assumed it was something teachers got told but, _but-_

She had wondered since the animagus spell _how_ he had been able to alter it. It couldn't have been nonverbally because he had been speaking the whole time but the _hissing_ sounds.

His reference to parseltongue when they were speaking about divination?

The Heir of Slytherin. _Slytherin._ The snake as emblem. The Heir. Slytherin had been a parseltongue. It was very rare.

But.. that girl had died _fifty_ years ago. However had he managed that? He would have to be practically immortal.. or a _time traveller._

A replica. The beat. The time turner.

The wheels were spinning, spinning in her head. It couldn't be, really, but at the same time.. it very well could.

Maybe he was immortal too, she snorted, some sort of panicked amusement coming up. But no, there were only two ways to become immortal. The philosophers stone and unicorn blood.. _and_ Horcruxes.

It had been a passage in his book, had it not? The vilest magic, splitting the soul, the properties of the objects-

She closed her eyes, breathed in, out, wheezing out breaths. It hurt, her longs felt like they were on the verge of collapsing but, but-

A horcrux emitted magic.

Dark magic.

The same magic it's owner owned. Of course. One soul.

And the emission was kind of like _humming._

The journal, diary. The ring when it had gotten snagged in her fur.

 _The connection_ he had seemed so amused about.

Oh Merlin. Oh God. Oh _fuck._

Hermione was practically married to a murderer. Worse. Bound. To a _**TIME TRAVELLING MURDERER.**_

She didn't close an eye that night, trying to stay calm and think of a way out.

Morning light brought clarity, and twisting the simple, elegant band on her finger she knew, with grim determination what she had to do.

It was the first time she felt like a Gryffindor. How ironic.

 _ **.**_

"You really are the smartest witch of your age, Hermione" he says, in wonder after she confronts, "though I have to admit I hoped you would figure it out. Yes, it's true. I am a time traveller. I killed a couple of persons. And I came here with a mission. _You_."

"But why would you even- why _me_?" she whispers, desperate to know the answer, "why am I so.. valuable?"

"Oh, Hermione. There is so much you don't know. I changed your time line drastically you know? You would have been in a relationship with Ronald Weasley now, and best friends with Harry Potter. Harry Potter, the boy destined to end Lord Voldemort."

"What, who?"

"Me" he says, simply, "the person I was destined to become. A Dark Lord. But you see, the future me visited me in my time, handed me a backward time turner to use when I was ready and gave me some simple instructions. Don't frame Hagrid for opening the Chamber Of Secrets, don't make more than two Horcruxes and find a girl, preferably while she is still young, help her to her true potential and don't let her get away. Hermione Granger.

'I admit, I was surprised. A Mudblood? But apparently you were the key to Potter defeating me. My future lord had discovered that when he killed Snape, a person he thought to be faithful, but by then it was too late. Luckily I always plan back up, so he already had the means to travel back and warn me. I finished my Hogwarts education successfully, travelled a year to learn everything I could about Dark Magic and then, when I turned nineteen I came to the future. I applied here at Hogwarts, Dumbledore believed my tale about the accident, though he always remained suspicious and since I had no were else to go he offered me the job. Your very first professor died in a tragical accident, you see.

'And then, all that was left was meeting you. Draco Malfoy turned out to be incredibly helpful, as I met you on a day you were carrying such an advanced book with you and.. well, you know how the story goes, darling, don't you?"

"No," she shakes her head, backing away from him slowly, "I.." composing herself she uses the position he taught her, fakes confidence and demands:

"So, what are your plans then? Making more Horcruxes? Conquering the world and killing everyone in your path?"

He shrugs, his grin widening. He knows her too well.

But not enough.

"I won't let you" she shrugs, like it is the most normal thing ever. Because it is. She is Hermione Granger, she is brave, she is a Gryffindor. "I won't let you get away with it"

"And how will you stop me?" he chuckles, "we are bound, remember?"

"Exactly," she holds up her right hand, the ring catching the sunlight, "I am prepared to die, Tom" she says seriously, sadness in her gaze.

He clicks his tongue, takes her raised hand, pulls her towards him.

"My darling Hermione, ever the Gryffindor. Yes it's true. I cannot live if you die and you cannot live if _I_ die. But it also works the other way around. You cannot die as long as I live, and I cannot die as long as _you_ live. And since we swapped a bit of our souls during the ceremony, essentially making us _each other's_ Horcrux... it's like a circle, see Hermione? With no beginning and no ending."

At her shocked gaze he chuckles.

"I _am_ a Slytherin, Hermione. Quite Literally, like you deduced. Ingenious, is it not?"

She did not find the strength to retort. Instead, she simply slumps against him, suddenly tired and wonders how she will ever fix this.

"I did promise you forever, did I not?" and twirling the band on her fourth finger, he tips her chin up and kisses her gently.

 _ **Fin**_


End file.
